Chocolate Milk No More
by MoonKent
Summary: He used to like chocolate milk. But he hasn't been able to drink it since…that night….


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Amazing Spider-man, except on DVD.**

* * *

It was a peaceful day so far. Nothing really happening. Peter could just take some time and relax.

"So, what do you say?" Gwen asked. "I grab us some lunch and we go off somewhere quiet together, and hope that Spider-man isn't called into action for at least the space of thirty minutes?"

He chuckled. "I think he could manage it."

They briefly parted ways, agreeing to meet up again in half an hour.

* * *

"So, what's for lunch?" Peter asked, swinging his backpack down to the ground.

Gwen held up a plastic bag. "Sub sandwiches."

"Only one apiece?" He put on a wounded look. "You're trying to starve me."

She poked him in the shoulder. "I know you better than that. There's two foot-longs for you and a six-inch for me." She reached into the bag and handed them to him.

He grinned and began to unwrap the first one. "A growing boy needs his food!"

"You're not growing!"

"Maybe I am and you just haven't noticed!"

She laughed and shook her head in defeat. "I didn't know what you wanted to drink, so I grabbed this. I hope it's alright." She tossed him a small bottle.

He caught it reflexively and brought it close to see. When he saw what it was, he dropped it like wildfire and stared at the label.

It was chocolate milk. The same kind that he had tried to buy the night that he had stalked out of the house after the argument. The same as the one that rude cashier at the convenience store had refused to sell him because of two cents difference. The one that the robber had tossed to him after stealing the cash from the drawer.

The same robber who had later shot Uncle Ben and left him to die.

Chocolate milk had tasted sour to him ever since.

"Peter?"

His head snapped up, his vision slightly blurred with moisture.

"Are you okay?"

He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes and glanced away. "I'm fine." He bent down, picked up the bottle, and handed it back to her, trying not to let his fingers tremble. "I…I'm afraid that I don't drink chocolate milk."

She took it back and looked at him silently for a moment. "Do you…want to talk about it?" she ventured.

He swallowed. He had never told her about the night that Uncle Ben had died. Nor about the crusade that followed to catch the thief who killed him. But most of all, he'd never spoken of the guilt that he carried with him every day since.

She had picked up small hints, he was sure, based on things he'd said in the past. But never the entire story.

Perhaps it was time that she knew. He took a deep breath.

Lunch temporarily forgotten, he haltingly began to speak of that fateful night. Of all the pressures that he had been feeling, between learning about his new abilities and the possible connections to his parents. Of the frustration he'd felt when his extra-curricular activities and his regular life began to clash. Of his desire for a little escape. Of the spite perpetrated and the poetic justice that followed. Of the shock at the result and of the anger at the unfairness of it all.

"Uncle Ben died that night, from two cents for a chocolate milk." A tear fell from his face and he suddenly realized that he was crying.

She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, not saying a word, just holding him. A tear fell on his hair and he realized that she was crying, too. She knew exactly how it felt to lose a father. He clung to her, and let the flood, held back for so long, wash through him.

When at last it stopped, they stayed unmoving for a long while. Then he pulled himself away, rather embarrassed at himself. "I'm…sorry about…all that." He started to use his sleeve to wipe the tear tracks and snot off his face.

A wet chuckle escaped her. "Stop that." She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a tissue for each of them. "And you don't have to apologize, Peter. Thank you for telling me. I know that it was hard."

He shrugged, still not completely comfortable with re-establishing eye contact.

"I'll tell you what. Why don't we walk down to that store over there, and you can pick whatever drink you do want."

He nodded, finally meeting her eyes. She smiled and he gave her a bashful smile in return. Slowly, he leaned close and kissed her, then bent down and picked up the sandwiches and his backpack. "Thank you."

They joined hands and walked the block to the store. As they came back out, there was the sudden sound of multiple police sirens down the street. He gave her a rueful grin. "Spider-man never gets a day off."

She knocked him playfully on the shoulder. "You'd better not take too long or I'm going to eat your sandwich."

"Oh no, the agony! You've struck me in the heart!" He clutched his chest dramatically and grinned.

"Go on!" she gave him a push and he darted over to a nearby alley.

A few seconds later, the familiar red and blue figure flew into view and swung off between the skyscrapers.

Gwen watched until he disappeared, then sat down on a bench to wait.

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ I only seen the movie twice, but the scene with the robbery really struck me and made me wonder what some of the long-lasting effects might be. I tried to be as in-character as possible, but let me know if there's something that should be changed. _


End file.
